comicadventuresfandomcom-20200215-history
2014-01-22 - Welcome Back Frank
Tale as old as time. Song as old as rhyme. Every now and then even the big boys and girls of the goon squad had a 'back to basics' primer then. In this dead zone of Brooklyn, in one of the ethnic neighborhoods a tale as old as the city itself was being carried through. A protection racket. Some of the shopkeepers had had a bad week and so were a bit behind. And for the Maggia it was 'Take your Gang to Work' week, and some of the new enforcers were learning from some of the old hoods the classic. In any case the cops were on the take, the neighborhood was abandoned, and a half dozen stores had been cleared out in back alleys as owners, workers, and the owner's children were taken out and had guns pointed to their skulls in the abandoned, graffiti strewn alleyways, sobs filling the air. Leading the group of a dozen or so Maggia Enforcers who had lookouts posted at either end of the alleyway, "Now kids, this is a classic." Billy 'Pretty Boy' Russo. One of the chief hoodlums known for a smile that in another world could have made him Harrison Ford. Here? It just made him having the time of his life with a revolver pointed against the skull of a sobbing five year old. "Now gramps, you know it, I know it, the boys know it.." Some teens that would seem barely into college watching enraptured at thier first time out in the 'field'. "Now then, give me what I want, or we're gonna find out what happens to the back of a kid's skull when it goes over the required healthy minimum of the FDA fer' lead content." -New York City continues to rot through the cold winter, whether you live in one of the warm high rises or not, someday, someday soon most likely, you're going to find yourself with your knees on the pavement and the cold steel of a revolver at the back of your head- With the cool winter air hovering over the city, Brooklyn has found itself frozen in time, a classic winter of snow and annoyance... -Snow boots, need to acquire some- With the time of year it is and the fact that informants tend to sing louder for money during the holidays and beginning of the year, Frank Castle has happened upon the scene he expected, Maggia enforcers out doing their duty for bosses who haven't met Frank yet... Peering down over the alleyway with his mouth covered with a black bandana, Frank smirks as any potential shots may hit a kid, with that Frank unbuckles a pair of tear gas canisters from his belt and pulls the pin, dropping them down into the alley, one for the far endand one for the close end. Not waiting for pandemonium to break out Frank throws a rope over the side of the building, ties off to a nearby metal grate and drops down off the side of the building like air assault school. In his free hand is Frank's favored 1911, which he unloads a few rounds as he walks down the building, aiming for the two enforcers below. What they weren't expecting was to have anyone interrupt. This isn't necessarily a bad neighborhood but the type where no one saw nuthin'. THe cops are either on the take or wrangled so much that no one would ever see anything either, and it's the type of neighborhood whehere you're always falling down the stairs on the handicapped entrnace. So to put it lightly as the two lookouts on the far side go down the reaction is a bit of surprise, to say the least as some of the rather fresh Maggia recruits let out screams as the grenade goes off, one of them having shrapnel going in his arm as he goes to try and yank out his pistol, nearly shooting himself in the foot as it goes off, his companion stumbling to the side and screaming, "Mother of God Motherfucker!!" Russo calls out, "You #$#! Fuckwits. Take care of him!" Billy is going to pistol whip the kid as the swing which otherwise would have caved in the screaming child's skull is intercepted by his mother slamming into the Maggia enforcer, tackling him to the side and slamming him. A rare moment of bravery out in the slums. The 'hostages' scatter then, moreso ducking and cowering behind cover or just falling prone and fetal as some of the remaining Maggia gangers and would-be goons go to open fire over at Frank, caught by surprise and going to blast at him like they were Dirty Harry. -People always got to the fetal. No one ever won shit from the fetal- Frank drops to the ground with a thud and goes to a knee, letting the enforcers fire their big guns into the sky as they aim with poor sight pictures and big recoil. Frank fires off a few rounds from his position before ducking behind a garbage chute to his left. Frank snarls as he drops the clip and loads another as bullets impact the wall before and after the chute. Letting the overpowered revolvers fire their six shots Frank finally turns and lets off a few shots of his own as a little kid runs up and grabs him on the leg. Not peering down Frank grabs the kid with his free arm and tumbles back toward the chute and winces as a ricochet passes by his leg. Setting the kid against the wall he says gruffly, "Don't move.." With that Frank rises and unholsters another 1911 and turns back, firing down the alley, eyeing each shot for a maggia and not a civilian. -One for Mr. one arm, one for Mr. gap tooth... Nothing for Mrs. Bravery, nothing for little timmy...- There are small acts of bravery. And large acts of fear. A parent or a friend going to sprawl out on top of some of the children, using thier bodies as shields as the screams fill the air. Some of the Maggia enforcers trying to use one another over as cover, literally trying to hide behind bodies as the bullets take them down and Frank mows through them like divine justice as screams and anarchy and blood fill the air, bullets cleaving through flesh casually. But BIlly Russo? He spins around as he's tackled and tosses the woman away, "He's just one guy! Suppressing fire you $##!'s and hose him!" He's well aware his men likely for the most part can't shoot for shit and that you've already taken out the other experienced members of his little crew in the first salvo. So the technique of just filling the air with bullets is a time honored one to hopefully force Frank to be defensive. And Billy ducks, going to quick draw a small micro-uzi and firing quick, two or three bullet bursts over at Frank as the exchange of fire echos down the alleyway. No one's gonna hear nothin' evne as the bodies hit the floor. One, two, three, four.. -Suppressive fire, always use the most casualty causing weapon- As the uzi opens up Frank halts his advance on the objective and behind moving sideways through the alley, firing pop shots at anyone willing to stick their neck out. Coming upon an old burned out car, long forgotten in this neck of the woods, Frank takes a kne,e dropsthe emptied clips, reloads his dual 1911's and holsters them for later use. Reaching to his back holster Frank pulls a laser sighted 1911 with an extended clip and then takes a smoke canister from his belt and pulls the pin, throwing it all in one motion. As the concealment smoke fills the alley Frank rises and points his laser sight at the point of interest with the uzi, looking to knock the man down with an extended clip and superior aim. -Concealment beats raining lead on a target every time...Or until it doesn't...- But the point of suppressive fire is meant to pin down, or otherwise cause a distraction. Frank's too well trained for it to be much of a distraction and is able to quickly neutralize the shooters. But for that moment as the area is filled with smoke, Russo takes the moment and the initiative to jump over through a rotten back alley door, smashing through it and heading into a sprint into the interior and firing off a pair of quick, random shots to discourage any pursuit as Frank takes out the remainder of the men in th ealleyway as some of the remaining civilians look at him in awe, and fear. The mother who had tackled Billy to save her child mouths over at Frank, two words rare and yet entirely appropriate. 'Thank You' befor egoing to grip them and run out of the alleyway. Meanwhile, running through the rotten building backhouse, Billy is yelling into a cell phone, "Seems military, body armor, heavy weapons. Overkill for us to take on at the moment! I'm going to need a car fast!" Frank turns to look at the woman offering thanks and his dead eyes, visible above the black bandanna offer nothing as he turns back to the job at hand and proceeds towards the backdoor of an old time butcher shop, now formerly offering money to the mob. Entering into the cold building Frank pauses to listen for any movement inside. -The van is parked out front with a movement sensor pointed towards the storefronts and no one has exited. Russo hasn't ran far.- Frank slowly but surely makes his way into the butcher's shop, laser off, noise discipline at the forefront of his next moves. Obey the Golden Rule. Give unto others. And Silence is one of those things. And in the dark butcher shop, the lights flickering off, sides of meat hanging on cleaver hooks from the ceiling that were going to be carved up for a frontside deli in an almost morbid display, the meat long since past freshness as the air was cold to the breath from the chill of the outdoors.. One of the meats moved. And a meat cleaver threw through the air, likely narrowly misisng Frank by some inches then as Russo zig zagged, using the hanging meat as cover to hopefully prevent Frank from getting an accurate bead on him. -Shots in dark, when did they come to be useful?- The flying cleaver just misses catching Frank in the face, slicing the side of his head open, the sudden blood loss dampening the bandana around Frank's face. Ignoring the pain, or more the annoyances, Frank moves back into the darkness and comes upon a switch, which he throws, which dimly lights the room and starts up the industrial grinder in the corner, a low rumble sd the the empty piece of metal goes about its pointless duty. Frank holsters his weapon and pulls a ka-bar from his ankle and moves slowly through the rotting meat, each swaying this way and that as the action has ebbed and flowed. -There's more than one way to skin scum from the Earth- With that in mind Frank comes upon the man he's looking for, the opposite side of a long-decayed pig, Frank stabs straight through the decaying flesh, hoping to end this once and for all. Looks like more than a pig is going to be porked and spit roasted tonight. Billy Russo lets out a howl over as the long knife, normally used for carving off hunks of flesh from meat, blade so fine that it could cleave through bone with but a blink goes through the sideof the pig and into his face as the moving line of meat through the slaughterhouse removes his cover. "AUGH!!" You slash the knife through his face then, leaving a deep mark in it as he drops his gun then, howling over as you carve a slash over through his pretty boy face over like it was a thanksgiving roast being readied for the family at Christmas. He would have killed children for money. He needs something special. Frank raises the trash up to eye level and says in a low, raspy voice through the blood-ridden bandanna, "You look like you need to be bled." Frank drags the bleeding man over to the meat grinder and as the rumble of metal meeting metal continues he pushes the man's face down into the slow moving, rather dull teeth, letting the metal rip across his slashed face. Frank holds tight as muffled screams and cries echo throughout the shop... -New York City is rotting, but tonight a butcher's shop managed to grind away a piece of meat that had hung around for far too long.-